Shala the Gray, Harbinger
by bamftastik
Summary: Spoilers for the Brave Companions questline. Dark Elf Shala manages to turn her rise through the order into a series of romantic entanglements.  Just jotting down a few imagined scenes - too busy playing the game!


Shala had found herself in Jorvaaskr on a whim. She'd been merely exploring the city and the big mead hall's doors had been open. She vaguely recognized the rude huntress that she'd met on her way to Whiterun, but otherwise these people were strangers. And they had wanted to see what she could do.

That first sparring match... well, she had fallen for Vilkas instantly. He had disdained her use of magic - wanting it to be just her, just him. Somehow, she hadn't been offended. He was skilled, self-assured... and beamingly surprised when she had bested him. She might have acted a bit of a fool after that, running errands, always eager to please, wondering whether he - most of all - had noted her accomplishments.

But then had come the whole Dragonborn thing. She disappeared. For weeks. How had Farkas put it?

"You didn't talk about it, not to Vilkas, not to Aela. I can't imagine what was going through your mind, can't imagine I'd want to. But there was something different about you. You were quiet, but you were proud. You weren't the besotted little girl anymore, following my brother around. You were a woman, a woman who knew what she wanted."

But that conversation had not been until much, much later. She supposed she should be grateful that Farkas still spoke to her at all.

He was right, though. She had returned from High Hrothgar using words like "honor" and "companionship", things that had never really crossed her mind before. Perhaps she had thrown herself into being a Companion because it was something other than being The Dragonborn. This was a path that she had chosen. Suddenly she was doing this for herself.

It wasn't long before her Trial had come. She hadn't expected to become lost in the mountains, hadn't expected to be caught in that snowstorm. It had been her fault, really. The detour had been her idea and she had nearly gotten both herself and Farkas killed. They hadn't frozen to death, though it had been a near thing. They had found the ruined tower, huddled together and when that wasn't enough... they had survived the night the only way that they knew how. And it had been as they lay together - moving, ever moving, fearing to be still - that she had begun to speak. She had told him of the Greybeards, of the training, of her fears - things that she had told no one before and no one since. The morning had come with the unspoken understanding that none of it had ever happened.

When they returned to Whiterun, she had redoubled her seemingly unrequited devotion to Vilkas - training with him, taking meals at his side - and exchanging only a few fleeting and awkward glances with his brother. She had begun spending more time with Aela, as well. Their hunts together became a thing of reckless abandon, a welcome relief from the tensions of the hall. She had thrilled to it - the power of being newly initiated into the blood of the beast, of tearing the order's enemies with teeth and claw. She didn't even notice that she spoke less to the brothers, wasn't told until later that Aela had "laid claim" to her.

One night they hunted a band of Silver Hand that had camped in the hills. There were dangers to both hunting as wolves, of course. She had Aela had taken the last man together, had shared the feast of his flesh, had come to blows over the last scraps. Over and over they tumbled, jaws dripping blood and bellies full of meat, the change beginning to leave them. Aela had landed on top as their human and elven forms returned, hungry still as she pressed Shala back and kissed her. The taste of her, the thrill of the hunt... Shala had kissed her back.

She wondered that it didn't happen more often. Aela had certainly been nonchalant as they made their way back to Whiterun. But she could not allow herself to wonder at what happened between the others on their own hunts, nor did she allow herself to change in front of Vilkas from that time on.

Little by little they grew close again, sharing only their silent companionship, the occasional quiet smile or accidental brush of the hand. It had been Shala that he turned to after Kodlak's death, Shala who shared his rage, who guarded his back as they saw the old man avenged. But still he held himself distant.

Until Ysgramor's Tomb. Vilkas had stopped in the entryway, declared himself unworthy of entering that sacred place. Where Farkas was all noble strength and Aela wild passion, Vilkas felt things more deeply, brooded on them in his stoic but troubled way. It was what she loved most about him. And so she had argued in vain, had even begun to turn away when he grabbed her wrist.

"My heart is full of vengeance," he had said.

"But not vengeance alone."

"Perhaps not. Perhaps we shall see." He had smiled then, running a finger along her cheek and tilting her chin upward. "Come back," he had said, brushing his lips softly across hers. "Come back to me."

Return she did. Kodlak's soul had been freed, but so too had he named her Harbinger, leader of the Companions. At the news, Vilkas had fallen to his knees before her, hiding well his surprise, his shame, a disappointment that had nothing to do with envy.

"Harbinger. I apologize. I should not have presumed to-"

"Rise, Companion." She had found the tone of command easily enough, hoped that he could not hear the waver in her voice.

He rose, head still bowed. And she had been on him then, leaping into his arms, covering his mouth with hers, savaging him in relief and joy until they were both breathless with laughter.

The party rode for Riften at once, to the Temple of Mara. The wedding lasted from dawn 'til dusk, the brothers determined to drink each other under the table, and Shala besting Aela two out of three times at her game of spinning knives. But they did not stay the night. They hired two of Riften's fastest horses, Shala and Vilkas riding like mad though the hills, panting and sweating as they raced. On occasion they trotted to rest the horses and Shala found herself confessing what had happened during her Trial.

"I know," he had said. "There is little that my brother and I do not share."

"You knew?"

"He assured me you would have both been dead of frostbite otherwise. Though, I admit, it did not keep me entirely from despair."

"You were jealous?" She could not help but smile.

He smirked in answer. "Did I not show it?"

" Aela-"

"She trains the recruits in whatever way she deems necessary. I know that as well."

She had risked a sideways glance at him. "Have you ever...? Wait. I don't want to know."

"Besides, you've always made it clear that I was the one you fancied."

"Have I?"

"Horribly so." He had winked for her, spurring his mount ahead with a laugh.

He hadn't questioned her desire to return at once to Whiterun, but he did seem surprised when she led him past her home - their home now - past Jorvaaskar and up the steps to the Skyforge. The sky had just begun to lighten and there they greeted the dawn in each other's arms as man and wife.

"Good morning, my wife," he had said.

"Good morning, my husband," she had replied.

Ever after in the presence of others, she was "my Harbinger" and he "my Companion," but the words were whispered in the same gentle tones, with the same shared and knowing smile.

Eorlund had found them there, bemusedly shaking his head as Vilkas grabbed a shield and thrust it awkwardly into her hands to cover her nakedness. He had seemed as unsurprised by the news of the wedding as by her new title.

But hers it was. She had never wanted to be Harbinger, but with Vilkas by her side she could get used to anything. Perhaps one day Farkas would be uncle to their pups and even Aela might show a reluctant sort of tenderness. Together they could raise the Companions to even greater glory. Her beast blood might prevent her from ever having a restful night's sleep again, but Shala could still dream.


End file.
